Just an Ordinary Day at 221B Baker Street
by pleasedonttalktome
Summary: Sherlock is reading a newspaper. John is drinking tea. Something about a ghost?


John and Sherlock were in 221B sitting in their charis. Shelrock was reading a newspaper and John was drinking tea, nothing out of the ordinary. They were really quiet. Then sHerlock slowly lowered the newspaper and looked at john with his squinty eyes. "What's that tea you're drinking?" he asked, his voice low. John look ed into the cup and shurgged.

"Chamomile."

"No," Serhlock gasped. He jumped from his chair and started swatting john with his newpaper like he was a dog. "No no no no NO NO nO NO No no no no no NO!" Sherlock hit him in the head over and over. John drropped the tea on the floor.

"HAVE YOU GONE MAD?" he shouted at him. sherlock shook his head and then dove onto the ground.

"Mrs Hudson said one o f her only rules of living here was not drinking chamomile," Shersock told him, "and now you've gone and broken it. God only knows why we can't drin ktthat kind of tea." He wrapped his head in his scarf until he looked like a mummy.

"It's what makes the ghosties come out," a tansparent apparition rose from the floor. It sat on john's trembling shoulders.

"when you told me we were sharing a flat-I-this isn't what I signed up for, sherlcok," John's voice was shaky. He sounded like a sad ghost but then again john always sounds like a sad ghost.

"You should have gone with the french banilla coffe," the ghost bent to whisper in John's ear.

"Make it go away, sherlock"john asked him. Sherlock was still wrapping himself in hi scarf.

"Don't talk to me," the consulting detective had finally finished and not an inch of him was visible. "I am a burrito."

"Burritos don't talk," the ghost told him.

"I am a special case. There are no burritos like me." He rolled to stop in front of John's feet and started wriggling around.

"What on earth are you doing?" John asked.

"It's called the burrito dance. Now I'm bored of being a burrito," Sherlock unwrapped himself and jumped up. "do you want to see me do a little jig?"

"What"

"Do you wanna see me do the watoosi?" he started jumping up and down on the couch.

"sto that," the ghost cried out. "that's where me wife used to sit,"

"YOUR WIFE IS DEAD" Sherlock cackled and did a flip. The ghost tried to push him but failed because he's a ghost. "Wear this hat, John," Sherlock jumped down with the grace of a ballerina and did a twirl or two before he set the hat atop his head. It read '#1 Dick'.

"I'm only keppin' it on because it makes him stop bugging me," John pointed at the ghost writhing in agony on the floor.

"What's wrong with him?" Sherlock aksed.

"I think the hat makes him in pain." "I knew that." "No you didn't you just asked me." "But I know everything." "Okay Sherlock."

"ow"

"You need a band-aid buddy?" Sherlock bent to talk to him. "Mrs Hudson keeps band-aids in her place for when I get booboos on my fingy," Sherlock frowned loudly and held his thumb, having a war flashback. He was reading a book once and he got a paper-cut. "It's much too painful to talk about though, bloke. Maybe next time." And then he curbstomped the ghost and it exploded.

He had felt betrayed by the book. It had caused him such joy and then such pain. How could it do something so horrible to him? He just didn't know and that's why he felt so sad by it.

"Gonna ebokay?" Jhon asked, noticing the dazed look in his friend's eyes.

"Is anyone ever okay, John?" he asked, real serious like. Then he grabbed John's face. "I'm not quite sure." He leaned in and John's eyes widened and then they closed.

"ARE YOU BOYS READY TO ROCK?!" Mrs Hudson busrt in, wearing leather and a guitar in her hands. She started shredding on the guitar and stuck her tongue out and started headbanging. Then John started headbanging too.

"I DEDUCE YOU ARE A METALHEAD"

"GOOD DEDCTION SHERLOCK," John's head spun around and his eyes turned red.

"Time to drink the blood of the innocent," Sherlock took his skull out and got a refill on blood.

This was going to be another one of Sherlock's satanic rituals.


End file.
